Plague Read Online Free

Low into his coffee, and tapped the spoon carefully on the
side of the cup.
    ‘I’m worried.’
he said. ‘That’s all.’
    Esther looked
at him seriously. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
    He raised his
eyes. He gave a half smile, and then shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. It was
what happened this morning. I was called out to help a young kid downtown. His
father came all the way up here because I was recommended. He wanted the best,
he said. But it was too late. The kid died on the way to hospital. He was only
nine.’
    ‘That’s awful.’
    Dr. Petrie
rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. ‘I know. It’s awful. And that’s all that I
can say about it or do about it. I don’t often feel inadequate, Esther, but I
do right now.’
    She gently laid
her hand on him. ‘If it helps any,’ she said, ‘you ought to think about the
people you’ve saved.’ Just then, the phone bleeped. Esther picked it up, and
said, ‘Dr. Petrie’s clinic – can I help you?’ She listened, and nodded, and
then handed the phone over. ‘It’s for you,’ she said. ‘It’s Miss Murry.’
    Dr. Petrie took
the receiver. ‘You don’t have to look so disapproving,’ he told Esther.
    ‘You and me,
we’re like the dynamic duo – Batman and Robin. Inseparable.’
    Esther
collected his empty orange-juice glass and tidied up his mail. ‘How can we be
inseparable, if we’ve never been together?’ she asked provocatively teasing
him, and teetered back to her desk.
    Adelaide Murry
sounded out of breath. Dr. Petrie said, ‘Hi. You sound breathless.’
    ‘I am .’ said the sweet little voice on the other end of the
phone. ‘I’ve just played three sets with the new pro.’
    ‘Is he good?’
    ‘He’s not
exactly Bjorn Borg, but he’s better than his late unlamented predecessor. A bit
heavy with the forearm smashes. Proving his virility, I shouldn’t wonder.’
    Dr. Petrie
laughed. ‘I used to like his late unlamented predecessor. He was the only
tennis club pro I could ever beat.’
    ‘Darling,’ said
Adelaide, ‘the club dog could beat his late unlamented predecessor.’
    ‘Well,’
retorted Dr. Petrie, ‘what’s wrong with that? Listen – do you want me to pick
you up at the club tonight?’
    ‘Are you coming
this way?’
    ‘I have to pick
up Priscilla.’
    ‘Tonight? I thought it was tomorrow! Oh,
darling – what about our elegant intelligent dinner-for-two on the Starlight
Roof?’
    Dr. Petrie took
a deep breath. He knew that Adelaide wasn’t crazy about Priscilla – maybe
because Adelaide, at nineteen, was still just a little girl herself.
    ‘We can eat at
home,’ said Dr. Petrie. ‘That Polynesian place delivers. And
champagne, too. How about that?’
    Adelaide was
sulking. ‘It’s hardly romantic. I feel like doing something romantic.
    Eating at home
is so ghoulish. You have to wash your own dishes.’
    Dr. Petrie ran
his hands through his hair. ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘I’ll buy two candles, a single
red rose, and a new Leonard Bernstein record. Is that romantic enough for you?’
    Adelaide gave a
deep mock sigh. ‘I should have dated my Uncle Charlie. At least he knows how to
twist. All right, darling. I surrender, as usual. What time will you get here?’
    ‘Six-thirty. And listen – I love you.’
    ‘I love you
too. I just hope this phone isn’t tapped. They’d report you to the medical
council for suggestive conduct.’
    Dr. Petrie
shook his head in exasperation, and laid the phone down.
    Esther was
helping Mrs. Fairfax into the clinic. Mrs. Fairfax was the sole survivor of the
Fairfax food family, who had made their millions out of early freeze-drying
techniques. She was a slender old lady with a sharp, penetrating face and a
violet rinse. She walked on two sticks, but she held herself upright, and Dr.
Petrie knew from uncomfortable experience that she had a sharp tongue.
    ‘Good morning,
Mrs. Fairfax,’ he said smoothly. ‘Are you feeling well?’
    Mrs. Fairfax
sat herself